


Wake Me Up

by ninhursag



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Prostitute, Child Abuse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-22
Updated: 2010-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-06 13:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So it's an au where Uhura is a sex crimes detective, Gaila is a rookie in her unit and Nero's the guy she wants to take down. Which puts her right in the path of one underaged hooker by the name of Jim Kirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Me Up

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[fic](http://ninhursag.dreamwidth.org/tag/fic), [star trek](http://ninhursag.dreamwidth.org/tag/star+trek), [wake me up](http://ninhursag.dreamwidth.org/tag/wake+me+up)  
  
---|---  
  
Pairings: Spock/Uhura and squinty hints at Kirk/Uhura, but mostly gen  
Summary: So it's an au where Uhura is a sex crimes detective, Gaila is a rookie in her unit and Nero's the guy she wants to take down. Which puts her right in the path of one underaged hooker by the name of Jim Kirk.

Sound like fun? Boy are you in the right place!

Warnings: Thematic but not graphic child abuse, prostitution and underaged sex.

 

Now

The kid is so young it hurts, that's obvious even when his stare is blank and blue and frozen, like he's looking right through everyone. He's wearing a threadbare pair of jeans and a t-shirt with obvious holes in it and that just heightens the sense of agonizing vulnerability. He's huddled in the back of the squad car like it's the last corner left in the world and he has both arms wrapped around his stomach.

Uhura kneels on the seat next to him. "Your name's Jim, right?" she asks softly, like they train you to in community relations. "I'm Detective Uhura. You don't have to be scared."

That sparks something. A cynical tilt to his mouth. His neck arches a little and he looks her in the eye. "No?" he says. "If you're gonna ask me to testify against the Emperor of South Side I think any sane guy would be scared."

"If I was going to, that would be true," she says and smiles at him. He doesn't smile back. "I'm not, though. Nero wouldn't have anything to gain from hurting you, not with what we have on him."

He snorts. "Okay," he mutters. "Can I get out of here, then?"

She ignores him, like he hasn't said a word. "See, there are a few things in the law where the rules are pretty damn clearcut. You made a... let's call it a movie, didn't you, Jim?" He blinks at that, staring like he can't figure out her angle. "Nero was in it too. I have a copy. Watched it in fact, and I don't have to tell you it was filthy. Bad enough to make my partner throw up and she's in Vice, same as me."

Jim sucks in his lower lip. There's a faint red tinge to his cheeks that surprises her. She didn't expect him to feel... not shame. Not yet. "It's not illegal to make movies," he says, slowly, hesitantly.

She shakes her head gently. "Isn't it?" she murmurs. "It's damn illegal to make kiddie porn. And that thing-- any jury sees that, they'll want blood. We won't need you to testify, all we need is for you to answer a few questions. How old are you, Jim? What's your last name?"

She expects resignation. Maybe even relief. She expects... she shouldn't have expected anything, been ready for any response. She gets panic, quick and brutal.

He talks first, babbles, "Look, look, don't do that. Don't-- I can't, they'll find me. I'll do anything you want, _anything_, I can do girls-- women. I can do women, it's good, I'll be good, I--"

She cuts him off with a quick hand on his shoulder, anything to end the incoherent flow of words. "Jim," she says. "Slow down. No one's expecting you to--" she never finishes getting the words out.

He hits her, surprisingly strong for all the thin youth of him. It sends a haze of red through her vision and by the time she blinks it clear he's crawled over her and out the door of the squad car. One of the uniformed officers catches up to him less than a foot away, a big guy, chest like a barrel, fists like slabs of meat.

Jim ducks a blow and hits back, but by that time a second uniform is on him from behind and between the two of them they wrestle him down and into a pair of handcuffs. When Uhura staggers out of the car he's hanging loose between them, eyes blank and distant. Dead as they'd been when she first saw them this morning, in that godawful movie.

\

This morning

Detective Uhura has had three years working sex crimes when she closes the case of her career so far, the one she knows is going to get her an open slot in homicide. She's got a feeling about it.

The pimp that runs most of the hookers on the south side calls himself Emperor Nero, like it's a joke, and he's as much of a son of a bitch as his Roman namesake. His girls don't talk-- the one who rumor said had been about to had been found on a river bank, washed clean. Slit open from throat to spine. Nothing sticks to him... nothing had, anyway, until Uhura has a video land on her desk, dropped there by the new girl in the unit.

"Blockbuster guy brought it in," Detective Gaila says and shrugs. "Poor bastard was still shaking. He said it was a snuff film."

Uhura raises one eyebrow and pokes the video with the edge of her pencil. "You know every so called snuff film ever uncovered has been an urban legend or a fake?" she says. She doesn't add _Rookie_ but it's implied.

Gaila just shrugs again, letting the implicit reprimand slide off easily. "Regs are to check them out anyway."

Uhura smiles at her. "Fair enough. I hope you didn't eat lunch yet, these things can make you want to lose it." They watch it on the grainy old television in the evidence room and Uhura wishes she'd been wrong about losing lunch. The subject is a boy, a teenager. He's the only one whose face isn't pixelated out. He has pale skin, is thin enough to see the knobs of his spine and has remarkably blue eyes. For the length of the film, there's nothing behind them.

Uhura watches the whole thing with her hands fisted in her lap. She only pauses the video to give Gaila time to throw up in the trashcan at the halfway mark. The still image of the paused video makes her stare. There's something there, a hand over the boy's face, fingers splayed across the pale, thin neck.

A familiar pattern on those fingers. She snaps her fingers and waits for Gaila to stop.

When her stomach's finally empty, Gaila sips from a cup of what Uhura hopes is lukewarm coffee for Gaila's sake. The woman's hands are shaking so hard the brown liquid keeps spilling over onto them, and if it's hot, she'll have burns. When Gaila finally says anything she sounds hoarse. "I don't know if it's a fake or what, but... I think I've seen that kid before when I was doing an undercover job for narcotics. He's a hooker, works the south side. Jim... I don't even know if it's his real name, but that's what he went by."

Uhura sits up abruptly. She can feel the edge of a smile breaking through. "The south side?" she says. "Of course he is. How sure are you?"

Gaila swallows and stares back at the now blank screen of the television. "Pretty sure. He wasn't... there was some bad stuff getting turned out, cut with rat poison. A bunch of the people who used it ended up dead or hospitalized. That kid was the one who dropped me a tip. He was a nice kid. Smart."

Uhura shakes her head and taps her fingers on the scarred wood of the desk in front of her. "He still is. These things are always fake." She tries to project all the sincerity she has in her. She won't think of that kid's face and whether it mattered to him if he was alive or dead, not anymore. "Come on, we have a lot to do, starting with finding this kid."

Gaila follows her when she gets up, but there's a look of confusion you can't fake on the woman's face. "Where are we going?" she finally asks when they're half way out the door.

"South side hooker in a snuff film?" Uhura says, glancing back over her shoulder. "Fucking Emperor Nero runs all of the hookers on the south side-- you know he doesn't let in independent operators. More importantly, I saw something while you were busy losing your lunch. Didn't pixel guy number three have tattoos on his hands that looked a lot like Nero's to you?"

"What?" Gaila says and jogs to catch up to Uhura. "No? I don't know? They did?"

Uhura smiles, for real this time. "I know an Assistant DA who can find a judge who'll agree with me that they damned well do. This, my friend, is called getting a warrant." In her head she can already imagine herself nailing that son of a bitch to a wall.

"Which ADA?" Gaila asks, running after her, already breathless. "The one that's your boyfriend?"

Uhura rolls her eyes. "That's my private business," she says.

Three hours, later, warrant skillfully obtained by Spock on the DA's office in hand and a squad of uniforms for back up behind her, she and Gaila were knocking on Nero's door. A boy answers it, familiar blue eyes taking her in.

"Jim," Gaila says, with a thick relief that Uhura can't help but feel too. It isn't that-- she didn't expect him to be dead, she hadn't lied to Gaila. Still, though.

The kid blinks, looking for one to the other. She can almost see the thoughts running in his head and that's even more of a relief than the fact that he's alive. There's still someone awake in their behind those pretty eyes of his. "What can I do for you, Officers?" he says, pasting on a smile.

It's not a real smile, but Uhura returns it anyway.

An hour after that Uhura's standing in front of Jim while he's cuffed between two uniforms. Somewhere not too far away, Nero's being escorted forcefully to another squad car, but Gaila's got that for now. Uhura's got Jim, staring at anything but her. One of his eyes already looks puffy, like he took a blow when they brought him down. It makes her wince internally.

"I'm going to be eighteen in three weeks," he whispers, eyes practically glued to the filthy concrete under his feet. "Just three weeks. Then they can't come after me if I-- they couldn't have come after me."

Uhura lets out a slow, whistling breathe. Three years in sex crimes, she doesn't have to ask who 'they' might be, not really. There aren't too many things that drive underage kids out here and if he's this terrified of being tracked this kid isn't one of the throw-aways.

From somewhere behind her she can feel Gaila watching her. No clue when she'd gotten done packing off Nero, but that doesn't matter. Uhura stiffens her spine.

"Your underage ass is material evidence in an ongoing investigation that's going to take down one of the major players in this city," she says and smiles just a little when his gaze snaps back onto her, those eyes huge and startled. Alive again. "I think it's going to take a little longer than three weeks, kid. When this blows over you'll be free to go."

He shakes his head, but she can almost smell how badly he wants to believe it. "They'll make you get call a social worker and... and whoever it is will call _them_. You can't keep them away from me even if you want to."

"Kid," she says and take a step forward, not quite in touching range even if his hands weren't cuffed. "I just told you, you're evidence. You think you can trust me to look after evidence in my big case?" She's careful not to say 'look after you'. She isn't stupid and she doesn't think for a second Jim is either.

He tilts his head and frowns. "I don't know," he finally says. "Can I?"

She doesn't drop her gaze, just looks him right in the eye. "Yes, you can."

A visible shiver tears through his body and then, finally he shrugs once and looks away. "Fine," he whispers. "Whatever." He pauses and then his head swivels back up. She thinks he really does believe her, he looks... better. "Nero's going down, huh?"

Uhura's smile is wide and genuine. "Yeah, he is," she says.

The kid nods decisively. "Good," he says, firm and easy. "He's an asshole. He hurt a lot of people."

"Like you," Uhura says without thinking about it.

The kid blinks and then he laughs, a short bark of astonishment mixed with real amusement. "No," he says. He looks past her finally, past the sirens and lights to where Nero is being driven away to be processed. "He's not that good." He shakes his head, still bemused. "Anyway, that movie you saw? After that he said he was in love with me, can you believe that? Like... I impressed him or whatever."

She rocks back on her heels and he gives another harsh laugh. "Yeah," he says. "I know, I thought it was weird too. I guess I'm just his type. Why did you think I was answering the door at his place?"

The uniforms won't uncuff Jim, but he's compliant enough when they lead him back to the car. She climbs in the front and Jim leans up against the plastic shielding came him in back. "So, am I stuck in juvie for those three weeks?" he calls. "Not that I'm complaining!"

Uhura shrugs and doesn't answer, except to grunt a, "Probably," but internally she's already preparing for a logical conversation with Spock about the housing a not quite of age runaway and how that might work.

She has a promise to keep.

 

Now

Their forensic psychiatrist is under thirty, barely, and acts like he's over seventy. Uhura's never been able to figure out if it's his life or it's an affectation. McCoy's a good guy, though, even if he's an asshole. She can work with him.

When he drops in front of her desk and he's in a towering rage so bright she thinks he might catch the blinds on fire, she knows to shut up and listen to him. His hands are in fists and one of them is clenching a thick manila file so hard the thing is already bent almost in half.

"I found who your kid is, Detective. I also found your kid's medical records," he spits out, dropping the file in front of her like it's nuclear waste.

She raises an eyebrow and opens the file with her thumb, scanning the first page. _James Tiberius Kirk. 17. Of Riverside, Iowa, born to George and Winona Kirk. Father deceased in the first Iraq war, mother remarried and then divorced. Custodial parent, the stepfather_. She blinks and taps her fingers on the offending paper before staring back up at McCoy. "The stepfather? Why? What'd she do?"

"Dunno specifically, but I can tell you the man-- the stepfather-- was the town Sheriff in Riverside." She waits for him to go on, but he just shakes his head. She bends her head back down to the file and turns the page. Oh. Oh. She's looking at commitment papers to a locked psychiatric institution in Iowa. They're signed with a flourish by the guardian, the stepfather.

"Schizophrenic?" she repeats the diagnosis blankly and tries to reconcile it with the kid she'd seen, the one Gaila had told her about. "There's nothing in his behavior to indicate... unless he's been taking some serious medication without anyone noticing..." she pauses and looks back up at McCoy, like she's asking if that's even possible.

"He's not," McCoy says. "Physical picked up some THC in the urine, but he's pretty clean otherwise, which given where you found him... heh. No other psycho-affective medications, legal or otherwise." The look on his face-- she doesn't know how someone can stay that angry for that long without stroking out. "I've done a preliminary sitdown with the kid and I'd bet the desk sergeant's ass there's a post traumatic stress diagnosis there, but this..." he points down at the report in front of her. "No. I didn't see a damn thing to indicate this."

"What did Jim say?" she asks softly. Her brain's already going in fifteen different directions. She still needs Jim to show that son of a bitch Nero was where she says he was in that video. She doesn't want anything that can be picked apart by a slick ass defense Attorney.

It's easier to think about that.

McCoy glares at her. "I'm sure it will come as a shock to you that the kid doesn't like 'fucking head shrinks' as he puts it. He said shit to me, other than to say he's not crazy. He wants to talk to you."

"Huh," she says. "I can do that."

They have the kid in what's really glorified lock-up, but he's got his own room and he's allowed to see visitors in it. In some ways it makes it easier on her that they've basically got him isolated. Isolated with no one to talk to and lots of time to think about what comes after this. It fucks people's heads, Uhura knows that, knows how to use it.

It's probably worse for someone like him.

He's sprawled out over a narrow, metal framed bed, head bent over a thick looking book when she walks in.

He frowns when he sees her, making his face tighter, closed off. The first words out of his mouth are, "Hey, you look stressed. Bet I could help you relax."

She rolls her eyes. "I talked to Dr. McCoy," she says.

That makes him sit bolt upright. "I don't know what the fucking head shrink said, but I'm not--"

"Crazy," she finishes for him. "I know you're not, Jim, and Dr. McCoy doesn't think so either. Want to tell me what happened in Riverside to make someone say differently?"

He doesn't even hesitate, which is irritating, but not surprising. He's half way broken just from being here, but not enough to give her everything she wants to know. "No," he says. "It's none of your business. The deal was that I'd help you get Nero and you wouldn't let them get me."

She lets out a long, tired breath and walks over to him. She can see him go stiff, still hands clenched white around the book he's holding. "Jim," she says, trying for sweet reason. "It would help if I know who them is."

He looks away, right through her like he can make her invisible just by wishing for it. "No it wouldn't," he mumbles. "I'm not crazy, okay? I'm not delusional and I'm not a liar. Everything I said was true."

"Okay," she agrees. She settles down on the very edge of his bed next to him. He's quiet and so is she. After a long lull in the conversation she leans over to see his book. She blinks. "Spherical Astronomy," she says. "That sounds heavy."

He just snorts and rolls his eyes, but after a moment he volunteers a smile. "I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid," he says. "It's not weird, okay? Lots of people do."

She keeps her own face serious. "No. Not weird at all." She doesn't tell him he's still a kid. "So, I know your name is Jim Kirk, you're not crazy and you're going to be an astronaut." He huffs a laugh at that last one, but doesn't interrupt her. "Why don't you tell me what you're going to do when you get out of here?"

He shrugs eloquently. "Get a job, a regular job," he says, like it's a question. "I'll be able to do that, right? When you're eighteen you don't need anyone's permission." He hesitates a second, biting down on his plump lower lip. If he weren't so skinny... so damned young, he'd be really something. "You'll tell them, right?" he finally says. "You swear?"

She shakes her head, dragging her thoughts back on track. "Tell them what?"

"You know, that it's cool. That they don't have to-- I'm not crazy. They said I was crazy, gave me these pills that made me, made it. I can't do that." He's shaking, she can see that. He's still shaking. She reaches out to touch him. The skin of his wrist is warm and damp with sweat under her fingers. He stares at her from under a fringe of thick lashes.

"Jim, Jimmy," she says and she can feel the moment he relaxes, just a little. "I'll tell them. You're going to be fine."

He nods. Stares at his hand where she's got hers wrapped around it and then lets his gaze wander up. Out of nowhere, he pulls out a smile. "Not as fine as you, Detective Uhura," he murmurs, voices bright and playful like he'd never been scared at all. It's a nice trick, but she can still smell his sweat.

"Read your book, kid," she says, and pats him on the shoulder. "If you need to talk to anyone, you have my number and Dr. McCoy's."

He doesn't call, but she drops in to see him anyway. She brings books from Spock's collection. Physics and Astronomy, heavy and dusty. Jim's eyes shine blue when he sees them, happier over that than seeing her.

The third visit she brings Spock himself with her, in his work clothes, tie perfectly pressed and shoes a shiny black. "This is Spock with the District Attorney's Office," she tells Jim. "He's here to talk to you about your deposition."

Jim narrows his eyes, quick glance from one to the other. "You said I wouldn't have to testify," he says sharply.

"You do not," Spock interjects. "You must merely state that you were... are a minor and participated in the filming of the video that found its way to the police department. Nothing more."

Jim sits up abruptly, different from his usual sprawl, spine gone straight. "I don't want to have to see Nero," he says.

"You need not fear--" Spock begins.

Jim interrupts with a laugh that has Spock throwing Uhura a quizzical look, like she could explain the kid. Ha. "I'm not afraid of _Nero_," he says and scratches the back of his neck. For a second he almost looks embarrassed, like it's somehow odd to not be afraid of a man who's gang terrorized a neighborhood. "It's just weird, that's all. He was all... into me."

"He is a monstrous individual," Spock says, obviously startled. Uhura almost says something, but doesn't. Better for Spock to see what the kid's like first hand.

"I know," Jim says quietly. "He deserves... whatever. It's just weird, that's all."

After staying long enough to make sure they don't kill each other, Uhura lets herself out of the room. She goes down the hall and across the street to Dr. McCoy's temporary office.

"Well, what's the final verdict?" she asks after letting herself in.

McCoy rolls his eyes at her and flips the file he was working on closed. "I'd testify as a witness on that kid's behalf, if that's what you're asking. He ain't a stunning exhibit of mental health, but nothing's there to warrant an involuntary commitment. All things considered, he's a tough cookie."

"Did you find out why one of your colleagues tried to get him committed?" she asks, knowing it will sting even as she says the words. Sometimes she just can't help it.

McCoy doesn't rise to the bait this time though, he just puts his hand on his forehead. "I called around," he says. "Old professor of mine did a residency with the head of Riverside psychiatric. He found out that the guy's a golf buddy of the Riverside Sheriff."

"Oh," she says, and she's not even a little bit surprised, but it makes her gut twist anyway. After this she's definitely getting into homicide. It has to be easier to avenge the dead than agonize over the living.

"The basis for Jim's diagnosis was paranoid delusions," McCoy goes on, words sharp as tacks. "I ain't gonna tell you what of exactly, but you're a smart woman. I'll just go on and give you three guesses about what he was deluded enough to try to tell people and the first two don't count."

Abuse, of course it is. It's still not a surprise. She forces her mind past it, at least for now. Focus. "Will we have trouble with them?" she demands.

McCoy shrugs, "Anything's possible, but they'd have to be a lot more delusional than they claim the kid is to want to open this can of worms now. If it hits the media... well, town of Riverside is a small, small place for a big, big scandal like this. They can't sweep it under the rug when the kid's out here."

Uhura nods and gets ready to say something else, something about the case, on topic. Instead what comes out of her mouth is, "He wants to be an astronaut."

McCoy actually cracks a smile at that. "He tests off the charts on the IQ batteries. If he can keep his dumb ass together long enough and we don't go sliding into economic chaos and have to scrap the space program, why the fuck not?"

She nods. She's still thinking.

On Jim's eighteenth birthday, Nero cops a plea. It's not a surprise-- there was no way this was going to trial. The sentence isn't what Uhura wants, but she's been a cop long enough that that part doesn't surprise her either. Guy was a pimp with too much inside knowledge and the DA's office wanted to go after dealers and suppliers instead. Motherfuckers.

She picks Jim up outside of juvie. He's got a worn out duffel bag that's probably full of books since he's wearing one of the two sets of clothing she's seen him in. He frowns when he sees her.

"Hey," he says. "What gives? Our deal's up, right? You got your guy and I get to get out of here."

She nods and lets herself smile. "Yeah, you do," she says. "Where are you going exactly?"

Jim raises a bushy, dirty blond eyebrow and his mouth curls upwards, like a born flirt. "Well, I was going to see if I could sweet talk someone pretty into letting me crash on her couch. What do you say?"

She rolls her eyes. "And what were you going to do when you got the crash space? Eat out of her fridge and roll around looking pretty?"

He snorts and follows it up with a surprisingly bright peal of laughter. "Not if she'd rather put me to work," he says. "But I thought that lawyer guy was your boyfriend." He pauses. "I'd be up for that, actually. I do couples."

"Yeah, you're going to need to wait until you're older and get your skinny ass through school," she says and then wonders if she's actually flirting with this kid. Fuck.

He laughs again though and she can't help but smile at him. "I can take the GED," he offers. "Or are you going to hold out until I'm an astronaut? Cause I think you have to join the military for that and I'm not sure that's my thing."

She sobers, forces herself to. To look him in the eye. "This isn't for the chance to fuck you, Jim," she says. She doesn't have to add that she probably wouldn't have to do a damned thing to get that chance. He's already all but offered it up every time they've been in a room together.

His eyes roll up and his smile goes plastic. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You want to help me reach my limitless potential. Have you considered a career as a highschool guidance counselor? Because you sound like my old one until I told her some true shit about my home life and ended up in a straitjacket."

She shakes her head. She doesn't move towards him, lets him come to her instead. Like a feral tom cat, ears all pricked up, pride in his stance. "Maybe you just remind me of someone," she says, and meets his gaze, tries to let the truth shine through for once. "Someone who got some well timed help and wants to pass it on."

"You sound like a hallmark card," he says, but he steps closer. "You're talking about yourself, right, Detective Uhura?" If he had a tail, it would be bristling.

"You're eighteen," she says instead of answering. "My front door isn't locked from the inside, you can show yourself out any time."

He whistles, sweet and low. "Man," he says, sounding surprised. "You're good. Do they teach mindfucking in cop school?"

She looks away. "Do what you want, then," she says and turns her back on him. She takes one step, two, three. Doesn't hesitate.

He catches up to her half way down the block when she's at her car. "I didn't say I didn't like being mindfucked by a beautiful woman," he says and hovers by the passenger side door.

She shakes her head and unlocks her car. Breathes out when he tosses his bag in the back and climbs on in.


End file.
